


While You Were Sleeping I Found You Alive

by TehChou



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, Kink Meme, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-05
Updated: 2011-08-05
Packaged: 2017-10-22 07:14:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/235310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TehChou/pseuds/TehChou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's an innocuous looking white pill sitting on the bedside dresser. Next to it sits a glass of water and to that a thin vial of clear, pink liquid.</p><p>Erik and Charles play a dangerous game.</p><p>Written for the Kink Bingo square 'Pervertables'. See A/N for warnings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	While You Were Sleeping I Found You Alive

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Okay this is going to need to be taken with a lot of suspension of disbelief.  
> There is no science or medicine in this fic at all, I looked at Wikipedia for a half a secound and then went WELP and start writing it, instead. I'm quite sure none of this would happen the way it does, for a variety of reasons, so if that is not something you can get past probably best to turn back, now, no hard feelings. This is pure fancy and fantasy. <3
> 
> Alright, so, the warning on this fic. Skip if you don't want to be spoiled.
> 
> I wasn't quite sure how to warn for it, considering there isn't really a word for “consensual sex with a man dying slowly from poison, and don't worry they have an antidote”, but there yah go. You have been warned.

There's an innocuous looking white pill sitting on the bedside dresser. Next to it sits a glass of water and to that a thin vial of clear, pink liquid.

 _”It's intriguing,” Charles says, looking for all the world like a boy with his hand caught in the cookie jar; at once sheepish at discovery and excited for gratification._

 _Erik stares at him a moment, rubs a hand over his face._

 _“You're terrible about talking me into ideas that I know objectively are very bad,” he says dryly, from between his fingers._

Charles runs a hand over his throat, stroking where his Adam's apple bobs as he swallows, a shiver of portend sliding through him and settling deep in his bones. He licks his lips, tastes the bitterness of the pill. Erik raises a hand. runs a finger over the tender red flesh, fascinated by the softness, the color, the texture. Charles's tongue pokes out once more, licks tiny swipes across the pads of his fingers. It's endlessly erotic, pink on red, cooled by the exhaling of his breath. Charles watches him with solemn eyes, though his lips curve into a sweetly smiling cupid's bow.

 _”What's this,” Charles hmms in his mind, stroking against Erik's thoughts like a cat. It's not an entirely pleasant analogy and Erik frowns, gently disentangles him from the spot._

 _“Boundaries, Charles,” he reminds him, irritably. He feels Charles wince._

 _“Sorry, sometimes it's hard for me to control when something like that catches my interest. It's not like physically investigating something, you see. Thoughts are easier to act on, more split secound. Less biological barriers between actions.”_

 __And that's half the problem _Erik thinks, very much without privacy._

They're watching each other when it hits him, making him gasp and his vision go faint for a moment, speckles dancing in front of his eyes. It slips into a wobbly dizziness that makes him feel like he's moving when he knows, ostensibly, that he's laying down.

 _”Erik,” Charles approaches him at night, in the library where Erik's kicked back with one bare foot laying sprawled across the divan, limbs tangled in his bathrobe. Erik quirks a brow at him, folds the book across his lap._

 _“Yes?”_

Charles' brow is furrowed, mouth tight. Erik is sitting next to him, Charles' dangling hand in his, eyes very wide. It's been ten minutes, ten minutes of Erik watching him shudder and gasp and feel.

“Does it hurt,” Charles hears him ask.

“Yes, yes, it- ah! It hurts, yes,” he drifts a shaking hand down his body, rests against his gut just under his rib cage. “Here.” Erik's hand covers his, rubs soothing circles. It radiates the pain outwards, crawls under his skin, but Erik's hand is fever warm against his chilled flesh.

 _It's a nameless, wordless, shapeless want, one that Erik isn't even really aware he has. It's just something he gets when he looks at Charles and his breath stutters or his eyes slide shut._

"Oh--, oh," he says, squirming on the sheets, words coming between harsh pants. "This is-- fascinating,"

Erik watches him eyes wide, unblinking, hand resting on his clammy forehead.

"I-" his eyelids flutter, eyes rolling in their sockets, searching. "I can't see-- anything-- any longer." His hand comes up, strokes across Erik's face, finger pressing, catching against his lips, running a little too harshly over his eyelid. "I can't see _you_ seeing me. Are you writing this down? The time, and-" he trails off.

"Of course," Erik says, though he is not. He catches Charles' hand, kisses the palm, rubs the pad of his thumb over his pulse, where it flutters like moths against a window pane. Light and airy, as if they'll break at any moment.

 _”Please,” Charles asks, eyes wide, laying a hand across his face. Erik closes his eyes and leans in to the touch._

 _“Yes,”_

"Hurry, hurry Erik I don't think I'm going to last much longer," and he certainly doesn't sound like he is, voice airy and light, so quiet Erik has to bend down to hear him, has to bend down and finds himself kissing him, instead. Charles' extremities are cool beneath his weight, the shift of his legs sluggish and confused and Erik slots himself between them.

> he says in his mind and the thought comes through like static-y radio, burnt and jumping from frequency to frequency. His torso rolls beneath him, melts away into little shivers as his body loses circulation. There's not enough strength in his heart to fill him with blood, but it doesn't matter. Erik moans and slides into him, his listless thighs brushing against Erik's hips, split open and loose, looser then he's ever been for Erik. He swallows a whine, an _actual whine_ building in the back of his throat.

Part of him is terrified. He can't help it, the serum tucked up on the dresser doesn't calm it, doesn't take the edge off, but adrenaline pumps through his veins and each thrust is an electric and frightened jolt in his gut. It pools there, almost too intense, watching Charles' sightless blue eyes roll, until only the whites are showing. His red, red mouth has gone tinged with gray, as though someone leeched the saturation from the layers of flesh, sucked it up into him. His eye lids are bruised, translucent. Erik's thrusts increase in intensity and when he comes for one panicked instant he looses sight of him, vision gone all to white and he cries out. Charles returns to him in faded gradients, body haloed from the afterimage at first until he's there, laying nearly prone under him once more.

Charles makes a tiny sound as his eyes go wide and sightless, body stilling around him. His last thoughts are like tiny fading shocks against Erik's mind, just neurons and synapses firing, nothing of the man left in them.

Erik swallows and rolls off him, eyes never leaving that too still face, groping blindly on the dresser for the serum. He fumbles until he remembers the lid is metal and grasps it with his power, stupid, overwhelming thing to forget but then he has it in his hands and he's tipping Charles' head back, letting it trickle down his slack throat. His breathes are coming in desperate little pants but he doesn't register it, world narrowed down to _Charles_ and quiet half formed whispers of “please please please” until Charles takes a deep, shuddering breath, arching under him.

It takes most of the night for him to recover enough to regain consciousness. Erik sits with him the whole time, heart still in his throat. When he does awaken it's with a sheet of feeling, no words, just an echoing confusion and almost lazy awareness. When he opens his eyes Erik breathes for the first time in hours and kisses him raw.

 

It takes a week for him to heal from being dead. Hank hovers outside his door, obviously fretting, but the one time he ventures in to the room Charles sends him away with a tired smile and a gentle insistence that all he needs is soup and rest.

 

When they are alone and Charles is sitting up, sipping a mug of tea, Erik approaches what he wants to say. Charles' reading glasses perched are on the end of his nose, a book open on his blanketed lap, so it takes a moment for him to lift his head when Erik quietly but sternly clears his throat.

“Hmm, yes?” Charles blinks at him. “Something on your mind?”

Erik takes a deep breath.

“I would like to speak of our activities a few nights ago,” he says.

“I see,” Charles says slowly and sets the book aside. “I had thought you might.” Erik gives him a sharp look, then looks away, inhales.

“I do not regret the experience, but I don't think I want to do it, again,” he says, not meeting his eye, visions of _feardeathcold_ flickering through his mind. Charles reaches out, leans across the distance and lays a hand against his cheek.

“Erik,” he murmurs, “look at me.” Erik tenses for what he'll see in his expression, but he complies.

Charles is studying him, a little furrow in his brow. He licks his blushing lips and Erik blinks, suddenly electrified by the feeling of pure gratefulness and appreciation that over takes him, leaves him winded. Charles is alive.

“Do you truly not regret what we tried,” he asks, eyes very wide and Erik has to struggle to bring his attention to bare. When he does he barks out a laugh.

“No Charles, I do not regret it,” he says and invites him to see. Shows him the vibrancy, the colors Erik now sees Charles in, alive and whole and bright. Charles goes a little cross-eyed, mouth open on an 'o'.

“I see,” he says faintly, and his lips twitch up at the corners and he ducks his head. Erik leans forward, bumps their foreheads together.

“Well,” Charles says, after a moment. “There's plenty of other things we can try.” Erik grunts, shifts in his seat, and then Charles is wrapping his hand around his wrist, pulling him in. “But for now, come here. I want you to feel me,” he says and Erik sits on the bed next to him, lets Charles wrap Erik around him, curls one of Erik's hands around his wrists, nestles his cheek against the pulse point fluttering in his neck, hale and whole.


End file.
